Skin
by Hazelnutkiss41
Summary: Nyota and her mother reflect on life, love, and what it means to be an adult. The rating is changing to reflect the more adult nature of the reflections.
1. The Discovery of Time and Change

**A/N: This story is currently undergoing major editing and revision to bring it more in line with my other story. So, if something looks different, you're not imagining things. Feel free to comment on the changes, and definitely let me know if it makes more sense now (or not).**

**Disclaimer: ****The story and original characters are mine, the rest is not. I make no profit from this writing exercise.  
**

**Skin**

**Chapter One: The Discovery of Time and Change**

**December 2257, Nyeri, Kenya**

"Nyofu, take these clean towels up to the bathroom," said Ukarimu Uhura to her eldest daughter. She had just taken them out of the dryer, and was anxious to replenish the stock of them that she kept in the large closet just inside that room. The family considered themselves blessed to have the rare feature: a linen closet actually inside the bathroom. It meant they had a convenient place for all the normal supplies, as well as the supplies reserved for the female members of the family. She was proud of her home. It was a spacious ranch-style dwelling, with orderly rooms – everything in a specific place, tasteful decorations reflecting simple natural forms – nothing outwardly reflecting their Kikuyu heritage or African identity as a whole, the walls bore subdued colors in shades a famous psychologist said were soothing, and a sturdy fence surrounded the whole. At one time, she'd imagined that the wooden fence surrounding her home would keep out the things that threatened her world. Ukarimu had stopped believing in symbols of safety that could be touched long ago. No, those could be breached, or corrupted, or circumvented all together. It just took one tiny crack in the defenses, one small lapse of discipline for all to be lost. It was better to rely on faith, on tradition, on having an unbending spirit.

Ukarimu was getting on in years, but she was still the unrivaled head of her family. As such, she directed the cooking, the cleaning, and made the major decisions. True, as father and husband, Kwasi should have the final word on things, but it was common knowledge that Kwasi had little interest in leading. He preferred to dream of and design beautiful clothing, of all things. Useless things when there was real work to be done. So Kwasi had swallowed his dreams, stifled his artistic gifts, taken over the farm his wife had inherited, and spent his days enforcing Ukarimu's will. Right now, Ukarimu decided that her eldest female child had either not heard her command, or was deliberately trying to ignore her. That was simply not allowed. So she repeated the order, this time with a bit more feeling and a touch of urgency.

"Nyofu, take these clean towels up to your daughter in the bathroom. The girl wanted to take a shower as soon as she got here. I'm sure she's hungry, too. Take her the towels so she can get clean and come down to eat. I'm sure they don't feed her properly in that place. How can anyone in San Francisco truly understand what a girl from Nyeri needs to stay strong?" Ukarimu added an icy glare to her simple words. Adult or not, this was still her house. Nyofu would obey.

"Mama, send one of Hodari's children to take them to her. I'm tired from my own travels. I went all the way from here to Tanzania and back this afternoon." She waved a hand in the direction of cacophony that suggested elementary school children were nearby. Hodari, her eldest brother and firstborn of the Uhura children, had settled his wife and four young children on the same property. There was always a small person underfoot, someone who could easily run an errand. Nyofu had begun her travels early that morning at the request of her university professor, Dr. Eric Twombly. He had asked her to pick up certain documents he needed for his latest project. She had done so, and had used another three hours for her own doctoral research. Now, she was tired and tense. Nyofu hadn't set in her mother's house in seven years. She'd talked to her mother, but had not returned home once she'd stepped across the threshold. The last time she'd been there, she'd been told she wasn't welcome. Her daughter, Nyota, was welcome to come and go as she pleased, but Nyofu was not. In her mother's eyes, she was unclean, defiled. Today, she was here to welcome Nyota back to Nyeri at her mother's request. Today, she would stand with her brothers and sister, and they would celebrate her daughter's accomplishments at Starfleet Academy. Nyota would graduate next spring, most likely with all sorts of honors, and hopefully, a position on Starfleet's shiny new flagship, the Enterprise. Even if Nyota was not chosen as a member of that ship's crew, her future was bright and full of possibilities. Nyofu knew that when she completed her own studies, there would be no celebration inside these walls. Her deeds would have to be glorified elsewhere, with others. It bothered her that no matter how hard she worked, no matter who much she accomplished, no matter what she overcame, she was never praised by her mother. Thinking on that fact, and not the festivities to come, she refused to look at Ukarimu.

Ukarimu, however, was not in the mood for having her orders questioned or altered. The woman, a little over seventy years old, standing five feet, ten inches tall, and weighing one hundred ninety pounds, moved swiftly in the direction of her daughter, towels in hand. She took the stack and brought them down next to Nyofu in such a way that they thumped her on the head on their way to landing on the table beside her. The older woman's gray-brown eyes, forecasting a storm if her daughter did not move from her comfortable seat on the family couch, met her daughter's sullen brown ones that did not _quite_ announce the bitter tasting anger that was rising in her gut. "Nyota is your _only_ child. Would it kill you to show her some kindness once in a while?"

Stiffly, Nyofu lifted herself up from her seat, gathered the offending towels in her arm, and walked out of the room towards the stairs. With every step, she ruminated on the fact that, even at forty, she still could not defeat her mother in a direct test of wills. Her heavy steps took her closer and closer to the bathroom, towards her daughter. She could hear the heard the girl's voice through the door.

Nyota was singing in the shower, unable to hear the earlier commotion and heavy footfalls that followed. Happy to be in Nyeri one more time before graduation and thinking of the future that beckoned, she sang. Thinking of all the new friends she'd made and new things she'd experienced, she sang. Filled to overflowing with memories of a sweet good-bye, Nyota sang.

Nyofu was instantly irritated at the warmth and joy that bubbled out of her daughter's voice and into the hall. How could the girl be so happy in this place? This place where independent thought was stifled? Where it was threatened into silence by icy stares? Where it was burned away to nothingness as if hit squarely by a phaser? That was the thing that was wrong with Nyota, she thought. The girl loved this place, that woman. It was that woman's fault. The distance between herself and her daughter, the years she'd spent apart from the other half of her soul...it was that woman's fault. Kwasi's too, though she couldn't bring herself to hate her father the way she did her mother. In many ways, he was just as much a victim as she was. Nyofu reached the door to the bathroom, took the knob into her hand, and opened it without knocking. She was not prepared for what she saw.

Nyofu stared at her daughter. The girl had changed. In fact, she could no longer think of her as "the girl." It was inaccurate. The person standing in front of her was female, yes, but no longer a girl. Her little Nyota was still little in some respects. She had never managed to catch up to Nyofu's five feet, ten inches in height. She estimated her daughter's height as being around five feet, seven inches tall. Nyota's skin was lighter than her own coffee skin, something approaching a pecan color. Her hair, wet from the shower, was plastered to her head and on down her back. Very unlike the twisted and locked tresses that cascaded down her own. Nyota's slightly almond shaped eyes were stretched wide, as she was startled from when Nyofu had opened the bathroom door despite the young woman's plea to wait until she'd covered herself. Nyofu's round eyes were open wide, too, but in disbelief. Her nostrils, wider than her daughter's, were flaring as she breathed. Nyota looked back at her mother, knew the deep breaths that flared her mother's nostrils were directly connected to the rapid furrowing of her mother's brow, and strongly suspected she knew the reason for both.

It was Nyota's skin, smooth with youth that had caught her mother's attention. It was her skin. Nyofu stared at her daughter's skin. She stared at it for a long time: Nyota's skin that Nyofu had lovingly rubbed with shea butter when the girl was an infant. Nyota's lovely skin was marred. Not permanently, but still marked here and there. They started at her neck and then continued downward…to her shoulders…and further downward…to the tops of her breasts. Nyofu suspected there were more marks, ones leading a direct path to an inevitable conclusion, but her daughter had taken refuge behind the shower curtain. Someone had been very busy.

What do you say when you discover that your child is no longer a child? Nyofu wondered how to respond. What she wanted to do was ask, no, demand to know who was responsible for the marks. What was his name? If that was truly what the marks were? Of course that what they were, she chided herself. Didn't her husband leave such marks on her? Sometimes he left other marks, like the scar on her ass, but that was a different story, really. Her man, nearly seven feet tall with blood from the stars. His grandfather, a Klingon named Koreth, had made his way to Earth after surviving the Augment Virus that had threatened his people's existence, leaving his own world behind. The virus caused him to look Human, much to his dismay. He lived out his disgrace in plain sight among the natives of Nyeri where he decided to settle, and mixed his blood with that of his employer. Their son, Keth, a half-breed, had done similarly, although in his case, it was a researcher who fell to his charms. Nyofu's husband was the second generation born of the two bloods. His blood was diluted, thin, but he was still enough of his grandfather to need to dominate, to conquer. Had Nyota willingly let some man claim her, mark her, leave his stamp on her for all to see? Nyofu forced down the shock, willed her eyes to close to a normal size, slowed down her breathing.

"Those things on your neck," Nyofu began. "Are they what they look like?"

She watched her daughter force herself not to try to cover more of the offending sections of skin with the shower curtain. She watched Nyota's eyes as the young woman realized that her mother could do nothing to change what had already happened. Nyota lifted her head, slowed her own breathing, and allowed the antelope-in-the-headlights look to fade away. The young woman faced her mother and made a decision. She would answer her mother, this time.

"Yes." One word told many tales. There was no need to ask about the other marks.

"Did you give your consent for that? Did you allow him to mark you like that? Or did he just take what he wanted?" Nyofu phrased her words carefully. Maybe there was still time to take her daughter back. Maybe there were still things Nyota didn't understand about men. Then Nyofu could teach her, talk to her. They could find common ground, perhaps. Ukarimu would never share such knowledge with Nyota, but Nyofu would.

"I let him mark me. I wanted him to." Nyota looked defiant. She was losing her shame at her nakedness, was beginning to draw strength from somewhere. Did she get it from the memory of her lover's touch, perhaps? Wasn't that what she did? Nyofu watched as her daughter gently touched one mark on her hip, almost absentmindedly.

Nyofu sighed loudly, let go of much of the anger she was feeling. It was useless to be angry with the passage of time. Time could not be touched. A girl-child did not stand before her. A young woman had taken her place. No, it was easier to go on blaming others for the time she had not spent with her daughter. Did everyone else know about this man, or was she the last to know? The last to notice that the girl was gone, and a woman was now in her place? Nyota was twenty-one now. There was nothing left to do. No explaining, no mothering, no laughing over _mandazi*_ and tea. Time had passed. Nyofu thought of reaching out to touch her daughter's shoulder, to see if her skin still felt the way it did when the young woman was but an infant. She raised her hand, and noticed her own skin. The color had never been the same as Nyota's, but once upon a time, hadn't it been like hers? Hadn't her skin once been young, vibrant, aching to be touched by a man's knowing hands? Maybe it was not yet too late. Maybe there were still things she could tell her, teach her, and prepare her for. Nyofu asked her daughter one last question.

"Have you lost anything that cannot be replaced?"

Nyota's answer was not the one she wanted to hear.

"Yes." There was something to the tone of the answer that suggested there was more to the answer than her daughter was telling. Did she truly want the details? No.

Time had caught her off guard. There was nothing left to say. Except...

"Nyota, I don't like seeing those marks on you. You must not let yourself become some man's plaything."

"I'm not his plaything, Mama. He loves me."

"How do you know that? Because he told you that while he was satisfying himself?"

"No, I know because he showed me. Because he opened his heart and mind to me and showed me that he loved me."

Nyofu shook her head, unwilling to believe that her daughter, so young, had already found the thing it had taken her many years and many tears to find. She left the towels on the top of the toilet, turned, and walked away, closing the door behind her.

*mandazi - Kenyan version of a doughnut


	2. Nyofu's Memory Part 1

Nyofu's Memory Part 1

Nyofu sat in the room of her youth and brooded in the darkness. She hadn't sat in the room for years, not since the day she'd left to start her new life at his side. As before, being in the house gave her no comfort. She had only returned because her daughter was visiting. Once the visit was over, her time there was over as well. She waited in the darkness, ruminated on things past and present.

"He loves me." She heard her daughter's words echo in her mind. "He loves me." Bah! What did Nyota know about love at her age? Nyota was just twenty-one, just two years older than she had been when the girl was born. And what had she, Nyofu, learned about love and trust when she was that young? She'd learned that they were a sign of weakness, to be sure. That had been his opening, his way around her defenses. That's how he had fooled her into thinking he was someone she could trust. She had admired him. He'd been friendly. She'd developed a school girl's crush on him. He'd been helpful. Even her parents had trusted him. And then he'd been fearsome, unrelenting, and inhuman.

She hadn't loved the man who'd given her Nyota, either, had barely had any feeling for him at all. What was his name? Cristian Hernandez. He was a friend of a friend, just in town for the summer to take courses at the University. They'd been introduced. Lust developed. And what should have been a night of farewell, thanks for the memories, comm me sometime, turned into two months of "oh, hell no, it wasn't me." Nyota resembled him somewhat, but her genetic ties to Uhura family were stronger. Rather than demand a paternity test and child support, it had been easier, in the end, to let him lie. Why bother? Test results would not have made him provide for the coming child; they would not have made him actually like her enough to take her with him, just to get away from this small town hell-hole. His easy smiles had turned to nasty glares the moment she'd told him. How could anyone like a woman one minute and look at her so coldly the next?

Love of any kind was weakness. That's what they'd taught her. Nyofu learned her lessons well, making a point of never trying to give her heart, surrendering the body, but never the mind, never the soul. Men came, men went. It did not matter. She remained cold, dead inside. Until the day liquid darkness flowed into the Uhura's yard with a message. A lopsided grin broke out on Nyofu's face as the memory of how she'd encountered her destiny interrupted her anger.

There was a mountain at the base of the path that led into her family's yard. There wasn't supposed to be a mountain there, but there was one there nonetheless. Nyofu could see it from where she was sitting on the fence at the top of the path, where it turned into the front yard of her home. The Mountain looked up to the apex of the path, saw her, and started walking towards her. Walking? The Mountain wasn't walking. No. It was striding up the path as if it owned the land, the sky, the trees, the wind itself. As the Mountain grew closer, Nyofu could see that it was man-shaped, with shaggy hair that cascaded down his back. He was muscular, had excellent posture, and was very dark skinned. A stray thought wafted through Nyofu's mind as she observed the way he seemed to flow uphill: the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. It was what she often said when asked about her preference for very dark skinned men. Just as quickly as the thought breezed through her cranium, another thought chased it, as she realized that she recognized this particular man-shaped Mountain. Although she hadn't seen him in years, there was only one person she had ever known that moved like that, with such dark skin, and with hair that had the quality of someone of mixed race. Khalil?

The last time she'd seen him, she'd been fourteen and angry at the world, and he'd been twenty-one, very serious about his studies, and wearing the oddest satisfied smile, as if he knew something she didn't. She'd been with her brother, Hakimu – on vacation from Starfleet Academy – that day. Her mind flowed away from that memory and back to the present. Nyofu had known Khalil all of her life. He was close friends with Hakimu; how could she not know his walk by now? But why was he here? He had changed quite a bit since then. He'd reached his full height; Nyofu guessed that he somewhere between six and seven feet tall, now. Closer to seven, she thought as Mt. Khalil drew closer.

This was not a good time for socializing, she thought, as it registered that Khalil was definitely on his way up to the house. Hakimu was long gone, gone where ever Starfleet had sent him. Her parents were not home either, gone to San Francisco to bring Makini home. Makini had been badly injured in some sort of explosion. The tissue damage had been extensive enough that she'd needed to be treated for several months at Starfleet Medical. She was finally being discharged from the rehabilitation center. That had left Nyofu and Nyota home alone together, with no referee. An argument had occurred, a very nasty one. The girl had taken a fall down the side of an embankment. Nyofu had thought about going down the steep slope to help her, but thought better of it. Nyota's last remarks had cut too deeply. Nyofu had no idea what she would have done if she had gone down there after her. Screamed at her? Slapped her? Held her? Wiped the girl's tears away and told her she understood? It had been easier to leave Nyota where she'd fallen, not tried to soothe her, not tried to defend herself. It had been easier to run. So she'd run. Not far, of course. Just to the Uhura side of the hill. That's where she'd gone, and sat, and waited for her shaking to stop, waited for the urge to cry to go away. Nyofu didn't cry anymore, if she could help it. When the shaking had stopped, she'd risen from her spot in the cool green grass and gone back to where Nyota had fallen. And she wasn't there. She simply wasn't there. There was no sign of the girl anywhere. She'd looked back towards town, she'd come all the way home, she'd even gone down the slope to where Nyota had fallen. But there was no sign of her. So Nyofu had gone back home and sat on the fence, trying to think up something to say to her parents to explain how she'd managed to lose a twelve year old.

"I'll be brief," he began without preamble when he was standing three feet away. "Nyota is fine. I'll send her back once you've proven to me that the girl is safe living in the same house with you."

"What?" Nyofu hissed. The question was laced with all the frustrations and anger of the day. How dare he stand there and tell her what to do? How dare he keep her away from what was hers?

Nyofu moved from where she was sitting on the fence and shortened the distance between Khalil and herself. Standing close, she determined that he was definitely closer to seven feet tall. With the height difference between them, Nyofu should have been worried that approaching him would look comical, but she was too mad to care.

"Give me my daughter back," she demanded.

"You are in no position to demand anything," he informed her. His eyes were set deep under a heavy brow. It always made his eyes look especially intense, even when he laughed. He looked down at Nyofu. His strength was apparent, but there was no threat of violence in his eyes. Instead, his eyes were serious.

"Nyota is safe at my house with my parents and grandparents, and that's where she's going to stay there until you've proven to me that there won't be another incident between you two like the one I saw today."

"Like Hell, she is! You bring her back right now!" Nyofu raged.

"No." One word, spoken quietly.

"I'll go into town and tell the police you kidnapped my daughter."

"You can go into town and tell them any damn thing you please. Nyota requested to stay until her grandparents return home. Sounds to me it's _you_ she doesn't want to be with. I think the authorities would be a whole lot more interested in _that_ than they would be in her wanting to stay with a bunch of strangers that offered to help her."

Frustrated, Nyofu lashed out and tried to hit him. Khalil saw the movement, and caught her hand before it made contact. The two stared at each other as he slowly lowered her hand.

"When you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen. You know where to find us. Nice to see you again, Nyofu. You've grown up to be a very beautiful woman." The Mountain turned and strode away, leaving Nyofu standing there, shaking with rage.

Khalil had told her no, and it had been the beginning of the rest of her life. Was Nyota's behavior the beginning of something, too?


	3. Nyota's Memory Part 1

Nyota's Memory part 1

Nyota released the breath she'd been holding when she heard the bathroom door click shut behind her mother. After a lifetime of backing down to keep the peace, it wasn't easy to stand up to Nyofu. Satisfying, yes, but easy, no. She wasn't afraid of her mother. Even with all of the questionable situations her mother had exposed her to over the years, she had absolutely no recollections of Nyofu ever hitting her. No, standing up to, or not standing up to Nyofu was not about being afraid of physical retaliation. It was about being afraid of the look that came into the woman's eyes when she understood she'd really have to fight you, and just might lose. Anger, to be sure. But there was also something else, something no child ever wanted to see in the eyes of a parent. Nyota had realized long ago what lay deep in her mother's heart: fear.

The younger woman shook her head slightly as she contemplated the reality of her mother's bravado, shaking loose drops of water that fell onto her shoulders and rolled slowly down her breasts. In simple terms, Nyofu was a bully. She ranted and raged loudly when she didn't get her way. Nyofu had terrorized her younger sister, Makini, throughout most of their childhood, prompting the neighbors, and sometimes strangers, to intervene with their parents on the poor girl's behalf. Nyofu's gifted intellect had allowed her to easily outwit the locals, causing them to believe in her self-proclaimed superiority. Not everyone, of course, believed the woman was completely entitled to her opinions of herself; her own family thought she was intelligent, rude, and mad as a hatter. Nyota paused as she toweled a slender brown leg dry, remembering her middle school literature teacher using the word "narcissistic" when describing Nyofu. She'd heard other words used over the years, but the more technical terms seemed to be the kindest.

Her mother carried a big stick and made more noise than a herd of elephants walking through a glass factory as she walked through life. It was all so that others would run away before they noticed just how scared she really was of anything she couldn't completely control. Time, however, was not something that could be bullied into turning back, or giving a second chance.

I am no longer the little girl who wants only to take away the wounded, haunted look that always appears in her mother's eyes, she thought. That look was there if you knew where to find it, hiding somewhere beneath the careless "who gives a flying fuck" grin, or the "I am the Queen, bow to my will" glare Nyofu gave people when they questioned her judgment.

Nyota knew about the causes of that look in her mother's eyes, about the well of hurt, mistrust, and disappointment that lay frothing violently just under the surface of Nyofu's so-called confidence. She had asked Makini once, why her mother was the way she was, and Makini had told her everything she knew. She told her about the jealousy Nyofu still felt so many years after Kwasi and Ukarimu had dared to enlarge their family by adding a quiet baby girl, how it made Nyofu feel like a bad girl for having such feelings. She told her about the trauma left behind when Nyofu was brutally attacked by a man who tutored her when she was around twelve years of age, how it still ached within Nyofu's breast, even though the rapist had been mysteriously killed and left on the steps outside the police station two years after the crime. Lastly, Makini had told her about the all-encompassing humiliation Nyofu experienced from being called a slut and a liar in front of the entire community when she accused a popular visiting student of being the father of her coming child, how it still burned and left her determined to never reveal any softness. Nyota knew that her mother had endured more than most people's share of misery, confusion, and uncertainty. Her mother seemed to fear being left adrift once and for all, being alone, being unwanted. She felt angry at being left unprotected, at being forced to do something she didn't want to do. Nyofu was a survivor, first and foremost, and now she held on tightly to whatever she felt was hers. No one would ever take anything from her again and walk away. So, Nyofu fought everyone and everything around her, including some of the people who loved her the most.

A deep sigh escaped Nyota's lips as she straightened up from drying her legs. Her mother had left quietly, but she knew the "talk" was hardly over. Most likely, Round Two would begin at the dinner table, where she'd be trapped. Say too much, and Grandmother would demand to know the cause of the latest trouble between them. Say too little, and Nyofu would believe she'd won some kind of victory. Why was the dinner table always a battle ground, Nyota wondered, as she brought the soft towel up the curves of her body, drying away the warm water which had refreshed her after her long journey home.

The towel caressed the marks her lover had left on her body before she left San Francisco for home. Spock. Just the sound of his name echoing through her mind made her throb between her legs. Each mark he'd left on her body told a story. There was one on the right side of her neck, where he'd kissed lightly, then sucked the warmth to the surface, pausing to savor the notion that anyone who saw it would know she'd been claimed by someone. There was a nearly identical one on the left side, but at that spot he'd licked his way there after taking the time to tease her left nipple by making slow concentric circles. He'd revisited her breasts, leaving tiny marks where he'd nibbled, really, not full bites, just gently holding the skin between his teeth until she'd squirmed slightly, the heat from his breath causing shivers. Both of her hips held marks from his fingers, where he'd held on tightly as he'd taken her from behind. There was a clear bite mark in the curve where her shoulder met her neck; he'd bitten down as a wave of pleasure had surged through him, through both of them through their link. There were more marks on her thighs, places where he'd held her legs apart as he tasted not only her thoughts, but every drop of her feelings for him. He'd held on very tightly. Nyota wore his marks with pride. She'd even marked him before their parting.

From the time she was fourteen, Nyota was aware of the marks her alien male relatives left on the women they loved, and of the ones her female relatives left on those men in return. It was one of the differences between life in the Uhura household, and life in the Kiteme household (Since family affiliations are designated differently in Klingon society, Koreth took his wife's family name.) Affection between a man and a woman was seldom shown in the Uhura household. It was a cold place in that respect. Ukarimu Uhura was a woman who was uncomfortable with displays of affection towards her husband; anything more than a peck on the cheek on their anniversary was out of the question. The very notion that she had once been physical enough with Kwasi to produce four children still confused Nyota. The Kiteme household, on the other hand, was alive, permeated with heat and sensuality. She didn't understand what it all meant at first, but eventually she was able to understand that everything that occurred was consensual, desired, enjoyed to the fullest. It was quite amusing to see an evening of watching some form of entertainment on the vidscreen end with Uzuri, her Human grandmother, suddenly backhanding Keth, her hybrid grandfather, hard enough to draw blood, with an "I dare you" smile on her lips; Keth's response was to lick the blood off his lips very slowly with heat in his eyes. Next morning, there would be a new bruise or bite on Uzuri's shoulder. Subira, Keth's Human mother, would be practically giggling as she treated her daughter-in-law's newest injury.

"If you bite him, he bites back, my dear. Haven't you learned that yet?"

Or it would be Uzuri treating Nyofu, her own daughter-in-law.

"Just because Khalil hasn't broken any of your ribs or your wrists, it doesn't mean he's not capable of it. He's stronger than Human normal. You be careful how you urge him on."

Subira occasionally sported a bruise or two herself, and the other females of the house marveled at her ability at her age.

"I'm old, not dead. And Koreth can be very…creative when he wants to be. Don't you two raise your eyebrows at me, just wait until you get to be my age. Uzuri, pass me the hypospray. Nyofu, stop bowing. Idiot. Nyota, ignore these two. May you grow up and find someone who loves you just as much."

If there was one thing Nyota had learned growing up with aliens in the family, it was that there could be pleasure in a certain amount of pain. And marking and being marked was just part of the fun. On Nyota's body was the story of her love for Spock, and of his love for her. There was no shame in being loved, and if others couldn't accept it, that was their problem. Her mother needed to get over it.

As she thought more about it, she realized that the story of her and Spock didn't start with their falling in love at the Academy. It had started years before she'd met him. The reasons why she'd opened herself so completely to Spock had begun the day she'd stumbled and fallen down a hill.

Nyota stumbled. The blue sky and green grass exchanged places over and over as she tumbled down the slope. When the world finally stopped moving, Nyota lay there, stunned. She was stunned by what she'd just said to her mother. Stunned by what she'd been feeling in that moment. She lay there, looking skyward, saw her mother's shocked face as Nyofu looked down. Nyota tried to lift her head, but she was still feeling dizzy. She stretched out her hand to Nyofu, asking for help, begging to be held, to be forgiven. Nyofu disappeared, going back onto the path. Nyota lay with her head in the cool green grass, and she did something she hadn't done in a long time. Nyota cried. She was still crying when the sky disappeared, blocked by a large shape looming over her. She blinked away the tears and found herself looking up, up, up into the face of the darkest man she had ever seen. He looked down at her, face filled with concern.

"Nyofu?" The man questioned the form lying on the ground, looking confused. "That's impossible..." His deep voice trailed off as he tried to figure out exactly who was sprawled at his feet.

"I'm not Nyofu!" The words were said with much bitterness, tiredness, and resignation. "My name is Nyota." The voice that said these words was much smaller, as though all of the owner's strength had gone into the denial, and what was left was less sure of herself.

"Of course." The looming shape nodded, understanding something. "Nyofu's daughter. I heard she'd had one. Hakimu told me." The man moved back, allowing the sun to shine again. He offered a hand down to the girl to help her up, but she warily rejected his offer by turning away from him and raising herself to a seated position. When she looked at his face again, he seemed amused.

"You know my uncle," Nyota asked cautiously. Ax-murderers in vids were seldom this cultured and down-home friendly, but there was always a first time. She kept the stranger directly in her line of sight, where she could observe his movements. She spoke with an edge to her voice, and her question seemed to be demanding a response.

The stranger seemed hard-pressed not to laugh, but he succeeded. He was smiling when he replied, though. "I know your whole family. Except for you, that is. You were born after I left." He said the last part sadly, as if though his thoughts were turning inward towards a path he wished to revisit and change.

"Where did you go?" Nyota was standing now, having used the stranger's moment of introspection to get to her feet. She looked the tall man over. He didn't look like any of the men she'd ever seen her mother talking to. And he was too dark skinned to be the mysterious father she'd always wondered about. Her mother had always told her that her father was light skinned. Her curiosity began to get the better of her. She wanted to hear the stranger's story, since it seemed he had one to tell.

"Far away. Here. There. Everywhere. Even out there," the man pointed towards the sky.

"You've been into space?" Now he truly had her attention. It might be safe to listen to the ax-murderer for a little while, just long enough to figure out how to elude him.

"Uh-huh. I've spent a lot of time out there. But now, I'm here. Are you all right?" The man turned his attention back to Nyota, looking concerned again as he took a few steps towards her.

"I'm fine, sir. Just some scrapes, really." The girl moved the same number of steps away from him, causing him to smile again. He nodded his head as if to say, okay, I'll keep my distance.

"Khalil," he said, still smiling.

"Huh?" Did ax-murderers usually introduce themselves? They didn't in vids.

"My name's Khalil. And I live on this side of the hill," Khalil swept his arm out in an arc, indicating all of the green, from where they were standing, out towards a large house similar to her own, far off across the green fields.

"You're one of our neighbors from this side of the hill?" Wait, if what he was saying was true, he wasn't an ax-murderer. But he might be something else?

"Yes." Khalil seemed to waiting for something.

"One of the..." Just how did one go about asking someone what species he was, Nyota wondered. Was it even polite to ask?

"Go ahead and say it. One of the aliens you've probably heard about."

"Yeah. Everybody says the people on this side of the hill are different, but I didn't believe it. You look like everybody else."

"You sound disappointed. Not what you were expecting?" Khalil's amused look was back.

"Not exactly, sir."

"What _were_ you expecting?"

"Someone shorter maybe, and someone with features I could easily recognize as different. You know, Vulcans have their ears, Andorians are blue, Tellarites are furry and have really different faces."

"Sorry to disappoint you. Not all aliens look so different from Humans. Many look very similar and only have internal differences. Most of my differences are internal. Besides, it doesn't matter what the parts look like, what's important is the person inside. Skin, whether it's brown, blue, pink, or green is still skin, still just a covering. Blood: red, green, blue, or any other color, is still blood, the river of life. A forehead, flat or with a crest, still protects the brain. A person is still a person, no matter what he looks like. Anything else?"

"There's something about your voice. The way you speak. You speak the same language as me, like you're from around here, but you sound like...you have an accent almost. Like you speak other languages a lot."

"Very perceptive, Little One."

"Don't call me that! I'm not little anymore."

"My mistake, Miss Uhura." Khalil put up his hands in mock surrender. "Come. Let's go to the main house. My mother can check you out and make sure you're not hurt. And I'm sure my grandmother will insist on fixing you something to eat."

"No." He was friendly, a friendly local alien, even. But that still didn't prove he was safe. He was a man, after all. Men could be cruel. What happened to her mother was proof of that. There was no way she was going with him into his house.

"My mother's a doctor. She knows how to heal scrapes and bruises. Living with us, such knowledge is necessary." The smile was back, now showing teeth that didn't quite look Human normal.

"Sir, with all due respect, you might know me, but I don't know you. I can't just walk off with a strange man I just met."

"You have a very wise soul for such a...young...person."

"You were going to say small person, right?"

"Guilty as charged. But compared to me, everyone is small."

"Are you really an alien?"

"Not completely. My grandfather, he's the alien. My grandmother and mother are Humans. My father is a hybrid."

"Doesn't that make you a hybrid, too?"

"I suppose it does, Nyota, I suppose it does." Khalil looked around, thinking. He raised both hands, palms open, showing he wasn't hiding anything. Very slowly he reached down into his boot and started to raise something out of it. Still watching Nyota, he spoke, "If I give you my knife so you can protect yourself, will you trust me enough to walk back to the house with me?"

Nyota looked at the knife he was now offering, rolled her eyes towards the blue sky above her, then looked back at Khalil "Sir, you're so much bigger than me, you could take it from me without even trying hard. I understand what you're trying to do, but it's laughable. Besides, I don't know how to use it to fight."

"Your mother never taught you how to fight with a knife? Why not?" Khalil looked genuinely surprised.

"Until right now, I had no idea she even knew _how_ to fight with a knife."

"She knows how. I taught her myself."

"She doesn't exactly spend much time teaching me things."

"I've been away from here much too long." Again, the man seemed to be talking more to himself than the girl in front of him. "I could teach, you if you like. A young woman should always know how to protect herself."

Nyota's curiosity started to get the better of her again. "Can I see it?" She gestured towards the knife he held. Khalil gave her the knife, hilt first. She looked over the gracefully curved blade. "Isn't this a Klingon knife? I've seen pictures of their weapons before."

"Very good. It's a _qis_."

"Why do you have it?"

"Why do you think?"

"You said you'd been out in space. You could have found it somewhere, or bought it."

"Possible. But highly unlikely."

"A Klingon gave it to you?"

"Very good. My grandfather gave it to me when I was your age." Khalil waited for Nyota to make the connection.

"But wait. If you're part Klingon, shouldn't you have..." Nyota touched her forehead, not sure how to ask why Khalil's was bare.

"_That_ is a very long story. And if you want to hear it, you'll have to come back to the house and ask the Klingon to tell it to you."

"Wait. A real Klingon?" Nyota's face shone with excitement.

"He was very real when I left the house. I suspect he'll be just as real when we get there. _If _you want to talk to him, that is."

"And he speaks Klingon?"

"He was speaking it when I left the house. Although, I'll admit, the dialect he speaks is probably a bit outdated by now. Can you understand any Klingon?"

"Not really. Just a few words. But I'd love to hear him speak his dialect. Sometimes I just like to hear new languages."

"If you ask him nicely, he might be willing to teach you. He hasn't had a student in quite a while."

"Who was his last student?"

"Me."

"But I'd have to come to your house to meet him." The girl looked disappointed.

"What awful lessons has life been teaching you already? Even if I didn't know your family, I would never lie to you. Lying is dishonorable. Dishonorable deeds are not my thing. Now, should I comm my mother to come out here, or would you rather be checked out at the house? Either way, I wouldn't feel right about you trying to go back home right now. I know your mother very well. I've known her since she was a kid. I think she needs some time to cool off. You too."

"You live there with your mother?"

"With my mother, father, grandmother, and grandfather."

"You don't have a wife? Kids?"

"No, not yet. Maybe not ever."

"Why do you look so sad, Khalil?"

"Talking with you has made me realize that I'd enjoy having kids of my own, that's all. I've always been so busy that I never stopped to think about it."

"And now you're thinking about it?"

He looked at Nyota very sharply, as if she'd deduced something he'd preferred had stayed unknown. "Something like that," he said finally. "Well, I'm going back to the main house. You can come with me if you like." The tall man started to walk away, towards the green fields and the cluster of buildings that lay beyond them.

"Khalil," Nyota called, causing the man to pause and turn his head towards her. "If I go with you, can I stay?" Nyota's face showed that she had made a decision, possibly about many things.

"Stay?" Khalil's somewhat shaggy eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Just for a little while. Just until my grandparents come back in a few days. My mother and I always fight when no one is around to make her play nice."

"Sounds like Nyofu hasn't changed much." He shook his head, then looked down at the girl beside him. "Come with me, stay with my family. I'll go and deal with Nyofu."

The talk with Khalil that day, and the next few days at his house, taught her that aliens were just people with different names and different faces. Under the skin, they were all the same. They laughed, they argued, they played, and they loved.

Nyota finished drying the last patches of her glowing brown skin, wrapped the towel around her hair, and collected her dirty clothing. There was nothing Nyofu could threaten her with, no way could Nyofu cajole her, even outright pouting would not work this time. There was no way she was going to divulge information about her relationship with Spock, there was no way she was going to listen to a lecture on the dangers of caring "too deeply about the male you've decided to favor with your attentions," and no way she was going to be convinced to end the relationship "to keep her mind on her studies." No way. It was time Nyofu understood that Nyota's heart was full of life and the ability to love without fear.

But how do I tell her that, Nyota wondered. How?


	4. Approaching Storm: A Collective Memory

Approaching Storm (A Collective Memory)

.

Nyota, Nyofu, and Khalil all remembered the day as clearly as they remembered yesterday. It was something the three of them had laughed about many times over the years. The emotion the women felt at the time was disbelief, both for different reasons. Khalil, for his part, always remembered his feeling of satisfaction. It was only Keth, Khalil's father, who saw the moment for what it was at the time.

.

Nyota was the first to see her mother approaching the Kiteme's house the day after she met Khalil.

"Khalil?" Nyota's voice was laced with apprehension.

"Hmm?" The man changed his line of sight so that it matched Nyota's. He also saw the approaching storm that was Nyofu.

"I'd better go. Thanks for letting me stay. I feel better now." Nyota readied to depart from her perch upon a large crate.

"Stay here. Your mother knows you're perfectly safe. That's why she didn't rush here yesterday."

"But Khalil, look at her face. She's really mad. I don't think I've ever seen her look _this_ mad before. And she's got a knife with her." The girl's face was drawn up in mask of worry. She had to make Khalil understand just how dangerous the situation was.

He studied the rapidly approaching figure. The girl was right. Nyofu was armed. Either she really expected to have to fight to get her daughter back, or she was bluffing. A bad move on her part, either way. Nyofu had to know she couldn't win in a fair fight against him. Perhaps there was a way to diffuse the situation before blood was actually drawn? That depended on how far he was willing to go to keep from hurting her. Khalil suspected that much of Nyofu's anger had less to do with Nyota's being on his property, and more to do with his departure years back than Nyofu would ever admit. Assuming, of course, she was aware of it herself. Along with the obvious genetic changes, Klingons affected by the Augment Virus also received some neural reordering. In other words, they thought differently from their unaffected brethren. Instead of seeing everything in terms of black and white, this way or that, Koreth and his Earth-born kin had the ability to see quite a few of the shades of grey in between. They still had fiery tempers, of course, but also had enough forethought to see possible ways to keep said tempers in check. A potential threat could be reasoned with, or just plain outmaneuvered, without losing honor. A true battle or someone's death was not always necessary. The ability had proven to be a useful addition to the psyches of Koreth and his descendants, as it kept them out of trouble on Earth. Most of the time.

"So, she still has the knife I gave her? I'm surprised. Nyota, don't worry. I know your mother very well. I've seen her even angrier than this, but under totally different circumstances. Even then, it was still possible to reason with her. You look at me with surprise. Your mother isn't half as crazy as she seems. She's fully capable of making good choices. She just chooses not to, and all of you let her get away with it. Watch and see."

"But Khalil, what if she tries to hurt you? You and your family have been so nice to me. I don't want her to hurt you because of me. If I go with her, she'll stop."

"If she tries to hurt me, then first, I'll have to stop her. Then, I'll have to remind her why she can't get away with crap like that with me. Maybe she needs the reminder, anyway, since she's come here like this." Khalil stood up and stretched his lean muscular frame. He lifted Nyota off the crate she'd been sitting on as he'd told her stories about his travels. "Go on over to where my father is. Stay with him for now, okay? Go on."

Nyota continued to watch her mother, who was now close enough for them to make full eye contact. Nyofu glanced at her daughter, acknowledged her with a nod, then made it clear by pointing her knife that her target was not Nyota, but the tall man beside her. Nyota hesitated, considered standing in front of Khalil and begging her mother to go home. Khalil figured out what was running through the girl's mind, and gave her a not so gentle shove in the direction of his father, away from the coming confrontation.

"I can take care of myself, Nyota. I thank you for your concern, but I'm fully capable of handling your mother. Besides, she's nowhere near me as a fighter, if it comes to that." Now Nyota had second thoughts. Perhaps her mother was the one in need of protection? Thoroughly confused, but spurred on by the rapidly darkening look on Khalil's face, Nyota ran over to where an older and slightly taller man was watching the scene unfold.

"Keth, you're not going to let them fight, are you?" Nyota was hoping someone in authority would stop the impending bloodshed. If she couldn't convince Khalil not to fight with her mother, maybe his father could stop him?

"I most certainly _am_ going to let them fight. They both need to get it out of their systems. Why are you looking at me like that? Didn't Khalil tell you _how_ they know each other?"

"All he said was that he knew my whole family, including my uncle, Hakimu, and my mother. Now he's saying he knows her very well." Nyota was beginning to have an uneasy feeling that there was a lot more going on than she'd been told. "Keth, exactly how well do they know each other?"

"Well enough that when he showed up here with you yesterday, and we realized who your mother was, we all thought he might have been your father. That's why my wife scanned you a second time. The first time she scanned you with that tricorder, she was checking your injuries from your fall. The second time, however, she was checking your DNA to see if you were related to us."

"What? B-b-but she never mentioned anything about anybody looking like Khalil. S-s-she always said my father was light-skinned, of Latino descent, and fully Human. Keth, are you my other grandfather?" Speaking properly was nearly impossible when discovering that your saviors and new friends might actually be your long lost relatives.

"No, I'm not, Star Child, sorry to say. Whatever your mother told you is probably true. I've never known Nyofu to be a liar. A hell raiser, for certain, but never a liar."

"So they were…like lovers?" Nyota tried to imagine the two in an embrace, but gave up when the image proved too intense to study.

"Something very close to that, I'm afraid. I can't explain anymore to you. It isn't my story to tell. Ask them when the dust settles. Don't worry. They'll yell and cuss a bit, but they won't hurt each other. At least not much, you'll see."

Why didn't she feel better about the prospects of either combatant? Helplessly, she took a seat next to the older man, whose features were less Human than those of his son. She could see the combatants' actions clearly, but she couldn't hear their conversation.

Khalil was sitting again by the time Nyofu was an arm's length away from him.

"_nuqneH_," he said, looking up, giving her typical Klingon greeting. _What do you want?_

Nyofu's answer was a fairly well executed right hook to his jaw.

Khalil took the hit, grateful she'd decided to hit him, rather than draw her blade. That simplified things immensely. He raised himself off the crate to his full height, and stared down at Nyofu. "I can only think of two reasons why you would come at me like that. You either want to fight and get seriously hurt, or you're trying to initiate a mating ritual so we can fuck. Now which one is it? Either one is fine with me. Tell me now."

Nyofu, hearing his interpretation of her punch, dropped her knife and took a full five steps away from Khalil, eyes wide and anger forgotten. That was _not_ what she was expecting to hear. He'd taken the hit; that she'd expected. But she hadn't expected his line of reasoning. She'd expected him to take more hits from her, then, plead not to fight anymore. That's what he would have done in the past: let her get her aggressions out first, then sit her down to talk. A real fight with him would be over before it started. She wasn't insane, not totally anyway. And the other option was just…just…just totally out of the question. The idea had seemed just fine at one time, but that was years ago when there was considerably _less_ of Khalil. She looked Khalil up and down, decided that he physically took up too much space to even consider lying down with. Not without a feasibility study of some kind. Still, she'd started the fight. She couldn't just turn tail and run now. "If I say I want to fight?" She questioned the mountain in front of her, but she didn't sound as confident as she'd wanted to.

Khalil crossed his arms over his chest, bare, save for the simple cotton vest he was wearing. He was confident he knew where this was going. If she'd wanted to fight, she would have hit him again, or slashed at him by now. And it was unlikely she was thinking of sex, considering how she'd wanted to take his head off yesterday. He didn't dare smile when he was so close to winning. He continued to look serious. "If you want to fight, then we can go behind the house and fight. Remember where we used to spar? I'll warn you though, if I'm fighting, I'm not going to use a little dagger like the one you have. I'll find a weapon better suited to my size. And I'm not going to hold back just because you're a woman. You challenged me. I have to take that seriously."

Nyofu looked at her dagger and decided it would be absolutely no help against this man. He'd go for one of the larger weapons she remembered seeing at the house, like a _betleH_. "And if I was looking for some horizontal action?" Her voice sounded even less sure than it had before, if such a thing were possible. She was sure she didn't want to hear what he was going to say.

Khalil moved closer to Nyofu, grabbing her right wrist in his large left hand before she even realized what he was doing. Damn, he was quick. He roughly pulled her to him, so that she stumbled into his chest. Stunned, Nyofu held out her other hand and pushed back from him. The contrast between the hard muscle of his chest and his smooth ebony skin posed a tempting study, but even touching that much of him felt like a bad idea. She jerked her hand away as if she'd touched something way too hot to handle.

"If you're interested in getting up close and very personal, then we can go into my house." Khalil's voice turned into a silky soft whisper along the wrist he was holding, trailing onto Nyofu's slender arm as well. "My room is still in the back." The base in his voice was almost a living thing. It vibrated along the skin of her arm as he sniffed her skin from wrist to armpit. "You're an adult now, not fourteen anymore. No one will care. We wouldn't be breaking any laws." The heat from his breath sent a shiver down the imprisoned arm that threatened to awaken other parts of her body. "Your brother, Hakimu, threatened to separate me from three of my closest friends the last time I got this close to you. He wouldn't dare say anything now, since he was the one that suggested I come home and see how you and your daughter were getting along." Khalil paused in his exploration of Nyofu's captive arm. He was still dangerously close to her armpit and other soft areas. He let the heat of his breath gather over her right nipple. He watched as it tightened in response. Oh, this was turning out to be too much fun to stop now.

Despite the shiver that was definitely moving on to other places, Nyofu was a bit intrigued by the mention of her brother. She'd always suspected he'd had a role in Khalil's leaving home. "Three of your closest friends," she questioned. What was he talking about?

"My nuts, Nyofu, my nuts. Hakimu said he'd castrate me if I didn't leave you alone. As much as I would have liked to have stayed around for a few more years, and taken you up on your offer to let me be your first when you were old enough, I would have been useless to you without the proper equipment."

Nyofu looked up at him, reviewing a bit of comparative anatomy in her head. "Wait. You have three?"

"Klingon redundancy in organs, remember? Let me show you. The soundproofing in my room works very well. You wouldn't have to worry about anyone hearing you scream my name." He added a leer to his serious look, the kind that said he was no longer afraid of breaking any part of her.

Standing this close to him, she noticed his personal scent for the first time in years. While before it had just been the way he smelled, now it was clearly a rich musk, something to delightfully drown in. Her eyes travelled across his exposed chest, noted the ridges marking the location of his sternum. She knew he had another ridge running down his back from the base of his skull; she assumed it continued to his tailbone. She knew there were ridges on his feet as well. Nyofu had no idea what other Klingon features he might have under his pants. Although there had been days when she would have given anything to see him nude, today was not one of them. Especially since she was discovering that the thirty-eight year old version of Khalil had skills that the twenty-one year old version either hadn't discovered back then, or had still been too innocent, or too much of a gentleman, to use on her. It was clear all bets were off now. Skills at knife fighting were even less useful in this situation. Was there a defense against him when he was acting like this? If she'd been in the mood, she knew she would have been toast very quickly. She remembered overhearing what was supposed to be a 'guys only' conversation between Hakimu and Khalil, one where they discussed the differences between Human stamina and Klingon stamina between the sheets. From the gist of their conversation, Khalil had apparently inherited more than just the ridges on his chest and back from his grandfather. Only two words registered in Nyofu's mind at the moment. Ho-ly shit.

Sometimes, when faced with an unbeatable foe, admitting defeat was a wise choice. "Can I offer a third reason?"

"You may." His voice was still a maddening combination of harsh and seductive, but his eyes were softening somewhat. They were not so intense now. Nyofu was beginning to accept that there were some things that had changed about Khalil. The way she dealt with him would have to change, too. Challenging him to anything was definitely out.

"Can't we just talk? We both know I'd lose a real fight. And no offense, Khalil, but sleeping with you was not on my to-do list for today."

"Doesn't have to be today, you know." He said the words against the palm of her hand as he kissed it gently, still using that quiet, silky voice. Their eyes met. Nyofu gave Khalil a sideways look, asking without words if he was seriously expecting a response to his comment. Khalil smiled and released her arm, breaking out into soft laughter. Nyofu shook her head in the negative. He could be such an idiot at times.

"I mean, I see Nyota is fine. I knew you and your folks wouldn't hurt her. But you, you had no right to just come in out of the blue and say I'm a danger to her. You have no idea how we get along every day. And to take her away from me like that? You're not even her father."

"I'd change that if I could. I heard he abandoned you two. He doesn't deserve the honor of sharing the creation of a life as bright as Nyota's," Khalil replied quietly. Nyofu, surprised by what he'd said, and what was left unsaid, turned away.

Victorious with just a sore spot on his chin, Khalil was pleased that he'd managed to avoid one of Nyofu's psychotic moments by putting her in the position of having to live up to whatever she threatened. Even if she'd said she was there for sex, he would have found some excuse not to go through with it. He hadn't thought about sleeping with Nyofu in a long time. At the time when the though _had_ crossed his mind, it had been followed immediately by the reality that such a thing was not only illegal because of her age, but would have caused more trouble for him than any person deserved in a lifetime. The seven year difference in their ages was too much for either family to ignore. If they ever did finally have an opportunity to sleep together, which was highly unlikely, this wasn't the way he wanted it to occur.

"We can talk after you apologize for this." He pointed to where his chin still throbbed slightly. Although very dark skinned, Khalil bruised like everyone else. One just had to look extremely closely to see it.

Nyofu, used to noticing every detail about Khalil's skin, saw it immediately. Her guilt made her shoulders droop even more than they already were. Not in the habit of saying sorry, she took a deep breath, even opened and closed her mouth several times before the words actually came out. "I'm sorry, Khalil. I was angry. You know I'm not good with words when I'm angry."

"I could have done without the reminder. Over there." He pointed to another stack of crates.

Wordlessly, Nyofu bent down, picked up her knife, and started walking in the direction where Khalil had pointed. Her head was down, her knife held uselessly at her side. Khalil followed, very much in control of the situation.

Nyota, still sitting with the older man, was dumbfounded. There was no blood on the ground. No one had been injured. Her mother appeared contrite. No one had been arrested. How had Khalil managed to get her mother to calm down like that?

"Keth?" Nyota wasn't sure if she'd imagined the scene because she hadn't wanted to see either of them hurt, or if it had actually happened.

"See? I told you things would be fine. They're just going to talk, okay? Why don't we leave them here to talk things out?"

He stole a look at the couple, his own tension draining away. He hadn't thought his son would allow things to become violent. The years away from home hadn't changed him so much as that. Khalil had learned to bluff pretty well. It would definitely come in handy if he was going to take up dealing with Nyofu again. For some reason, the men in his family seemed to take up with brilliant, but difficult, women. It looked as if Khalil would be no different. Keth turned his attention to Nyota, the girl he'd dubbed Star Child. In just one night, she'd taken over his heart. She was such a joy to talk to, so curious, and so smart. He was sure his father and mother felt the same way. His wife, Uzuri, had looked disappointed when she'd checked the readout on her tricorder, even though getting positive results would have meant Khalil had kept something important from them for years. There had to be some way to convince Nyofu to let the girl spend more time with them, even if she wasn't theirs.

Keth took one last look as Khalil and Nyofu settled into positions on the crates in front of the house that he had seen them sit in many times before. Although their bodies looked different after so many years, there was a familiarity that was asserting itself, as if they'd never been apart. Maybe, just maybe, there was still something there? His son was getting older, needed to settle down. Who better than a woman who'd known him for most of his life? One who accepted him, as is? One who accepted them, as is, for that matter. It was one thing for a woman to accept a man into her life, but accepting his family and all their idiosyncrasies could be quite another. Nyofu had accepted all of them long ago. Keth often suspected Nyofu harbored a secret wish to _be_ a Klingon. Based on everything he'd heard from his father, he was pretty sure she would have fit in, too. Keth had hope. He nodded his head absentmindedly, dedicated himself to doing whatever he could to nudge the two together. And he'd start by leaving them alone to talk. He hadn't been able to hear their conversation any more than Nyota had. Unlike Nyota, though, he understood the body language they'd displayed.

Keth thought about warning Khalil not to try using that particular bluff again. He had once said something similar to Uzuri, back in the days when they were on a collision course towards a relationship that went beyond what they were to each other when they'd met. She was an upstart doctor from Starfleet Medical on a-research fellowship to study the only known Klingon/Human hybrid in his natural habitat. She'd been a bit disappointed to discover her subject was a highly competent engineer who had little time or patience for her. According to Uzuri's journals, he was an unwilling evil tempered modern day lab rat who refused to understand how being subjected to her questions and experiments could benefit both species someday. The first time he'd called her bluff, Uzuri had backed off completely, just as Nyofu had done. The second time he tried it, she backed off only after he'd forced her fingernails into the palm of her hand when he'd closed his large hand over her much smaller one. She'd quickly realized that there might be more blood and pain involved, and she wasn't sure if she was up for it. The third time he tried it, however, the lab rat had had to deliver what he'd promised. She had not only walked up to him and backhanded him while he was in the middle of a conversation with his father, she had stood there, smiled at him, and told him what _his_ choices were. It turned out to be a very long afternoon. Uzuri washed out of the fellowship when her supervisors discovered she'd begun sleeping with her research subject, and Keth found himself with a wife he'd never expected to find. Smirking, Keth decided he wouldn't warn his son. Why deprive him of the joy of discovery? He looked down at Nyota again, who was still watching the way Khalil and Nyofu talked like old friends. She still couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"You want to learn more words from my father? Let's go find him."

Nyota followed the older man, still trying to figure out what had just happened. One thing was certain. There were definitely people out there that knew how to deal with her mother. If only she could convince one to stay with her permanently, maybe then she'd be able to get out of her mother's shadow and be herself.

****

A/N: Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. All Klingon words and pronunciations come from The Klingon Dictionary by Marc Okrand

nuqneH (nook-NEKH) – what do you want? [As close as you're going to get to hello in Klingon]

betleH (bat-leth) –a type of hand weapon, curved, with four blades, using a two handed grip


	5. Khalil's Memory Part 1:Courting Disaster

A/N: Since Khalil's sections jump around in time, I'm adding dates. If readers feel they are necessary for the whole story, then I'll make updates to the whole thing.

Khalil's Memory Part 1 (Courting Disaster)

December 2257

Ahead of me there is a battle

This victory is already mine

You were defeated

Before it began

Yet still you try to come between us

Still you try to destroy what we have

Khalil found himself staring off into the nothingness outside of his window for the third time in the last hour. Well, it wasn't exactly nothingness; nature was outside his window, something beautiful and worthy of being exalted with words. However, he had long since stopped noticing any of the splendors in front of him that he'd wanted to sing praises to in his verses. He was badly distracted. It had started earlier in the day, when Nyofu had informed him that they were expected to have dinner at her mother's house in honor of Nyota's visit home. It was possibly Nyota's last visit home before she received her first Starfleet posting. As much as he hated to admit it, the thought of going to the Uhuras' house made him miserable. It was no secret that his mother-in-law disliked him intensely. Ukarimu was never comfortable around the rather large and not-quite-Human man. She had never been comfortable around him when he was a boy, either. He realized that many years ago. Her discomfort around him had shown up in several ways: a tendency to watch his every move when he visited her home to see her children, as if he'd break something or someone; a quick washing of every dish he ate from, as if he were dirty or diseased; complaints about an unusual foul smell permeating the house as soon as he entered. By the time he was a teen, he understood clearly. The only thing he was never sure of was whether Mrs. Uhura's dislike was for aliens in general, members of the Kiteme family, or him personally. All he knew for sure was that he'd never done anything to her to earn her enmity. Well, he _did_ marry her daughter without asking for permission, but the daughter in question was already thirty-three years old when _that_ happened, certainly past the need for parental consent. And Nyofu had most definitely given her consent for all of the delightfully wicked things he'd done with her the night before the wedding. Nyofu had rather loudly given her consent; somewhere between the moans and the outright screams of pleasure she'd made that night, she had voiced coherent sentences, giving him full permission to access every part of her. Khalil chuckled to himself as he vividly remembered the night in question. Nyofu had repeatedly given her consent, even when he'd warned her she wouldn't be able to walk the next morning if they continued. Khalil's chuckle turned into a full throated laugh. No. Mrs. Uhura had disliked him long before he'd shown up in her kitchen at noon the next day, carrying her adult third child on his back, announcing that Nyofu was now his wife, according to both Federation and Klingon law. No. The woman had disliked him long before that ugly scene played out. Now, if Nyofu would just finish her degree so she could keep the promise she'd made to him that first night…then Mrs. Uhura would really hate him. He looked forward to it.

Memories do not leave me alone

Instead, they gather deep inside

Sometimes giving comfort

Sometimes giving pain

Khalil felt he needed some time to prepare for the ordeal of having a family dinner with his in-laws. That was the best way to describe spending time in the Uhura household: an ordeal, one just as soul testing as any Klingon ritual his _vavnI'_, Koreth, had ever described to him. He decided to leave the main house and go down to the smaller house on the property that sometimes served as his office. It was little more than a storage shed when compared to the size and comfort of the main house. Still, it was a good place to go when he wanted to be alone to write, or to think. Right now, he needed to do both. He felt uneasy today. Change was coming. He could scent it on the wind. Change was upon them. Was it a beginning, or an ending?

Morning comes so suddenly

Our days of sunshine

Are now all yesterdays

Time is passing

Never ceasing

Are our tomorrows

Farther away

As his mind drifted away from his writing yet again, Khalil decided that facing Klingon _'oy'naQ_, stick-like devices used in rituals devised to test a warrior's ability to withstand pain, would be an easier task than making 'nice' at dinner. His mother-in-law didn't make him feel nice. She made him feel unwelcome. At least with the pain-sticks, the pain would be over relatively quickly. They wouldn't leave the sense of being touched by something cold and dying. As much as he loved Nyofu, and even her brother, Hakimu, his brother under the skin, he could never resolve himself to feeling comfortable in the home of their youth. There was always too much sadness there, too many ghosts of disappointments hanging in the air for the place to not feel haunted. He always wondered if the house was built over an ancient cemetery, or perhaps was the site of some unspeakable horror in days past. Khalil was not a superstitious man, but the place was strange. He felt much calmer, much safer on his own side of the hill.

In your pain

I found my voice

In your strength

I found my own

In your need

I found my calling

In your arms

I found my home

As he settled into his seat to try again at composing something that reflected the soft, loving, proud thoughts he experienced when he thought of his step-daughter, Nyota, his memories tickled his mind and brought him back to the time he'd come to the Uhuras' house to see Hakimu's new sister.

May 2217

She was four months old. Hakimu, aged seven, had been told he could invite his friends to see the baby. The infant was lying in a bassinet in the family room. Khalil stared down at the small brown body. She was such a tiny thing, so delicate looking. Tiny fingers, tiny toes, tiny eyes, tiny nose. It was hard for Khalil to believe that a person could start so small and grow to be as large as someone like his grandfather. Had he ever been this small? He would ask his mother when he got home. She was a doctor. She knew a lot about life stages. What did a baby's skin feel like? Was she as soft as she looked? Impulsively, Khalil, also seven, but looking ten, reached out a finger and touched the skin of the baby's leg. The little one _was_ soft. Very gently, he raised his finger from the baby's leg and poked the baby in her tummy. She smiled a gummy smile at him and began to coo, making full eye contact with him. Hakimu was surprised. The baby, Nyofu, usually didn't like strangers. The other boys tried to make the baby girl laugh, too, but were unsuccessful. The baby howled until her brother was able to console her. Feeling proud of doing something the others hadn't been able to do, Khalil stayed behind when the other boys left the room. They were bored with staring at a baby that didn't want to play with them. Khalil watched the baby, while the baby continued to watch him. Mrs. Uhura watched them both from a distance, vigilant, lest Khalil injure the small figure. Khalil was aware that he was being watched by the woman with a disapproving glare, but he was far more interested in the way the small one's eyes responded to his attempts to generate more laughter.

October 2229

Khalil's fascination with the baby disappeared when the infant aged into a small, wise-assed pest that followed him and Hakimu wherever they went. The wise-ass aged even further over the years, one day turning twelve. Nyofu. She was hardly worth noticing. Just his best friend's little sister. His own little sister by osmosis, since the two young men were still close after so many years. She was an amalgam of long brown arms and legs, a torso that had recently sprouted lemon sized breasts, and a mouth that could spout razor sharp wit as easily as it could curses at whoever managed to enchant or offend her. Khalil was nineteen, going solo now that Hakimu had made it into Starfleet Academy. Khalil had his own prospects for leaving home: he'd developed a passion for languages and writing, and someday he would use them to leave their nowhere town. Maybe he'd even visit his grandfather's home world, _Qo'nos_, someday. He divided his time between helping on the family farm, studying in Nairobi, and chasing the braver girls in town: ones that didn't mind the fact that Khalil's body displayed features from both sides of his heritage, and that he really did have a faint, slightly musky scent all his own. Occasionally, he kept his promise to Hakimu, checking on the Uhura girls, Nyofu, and eight year old Makini, to make sure no boys were bothering them. Nyofu was…Nyofu, and Makini, quiet as her name suggested, was a keeper of secrets. If he wanted to know what mischief Nyofu was up to, all he had to do was ask Makini. That, and promise her an opportunity to play in his father's lab. Keth never minded encouraging the youngster's curiosity in computers and engineering matters, and Makini never minded spilling her sister's secrets. Life was simple, sweet, and full of possibilities.

Forgive me, sweet flower

Had I known winter was coming

I would have warned you

Not to go so far from the sun

I would have told you

Not to trust

Nyofu had proven to be quite gifted intellectually. Unwilling to stifle her potential, her parents had searched for a private tutor, someone who could supplement the education she was receiving in school. When she was older perhaps, she could be sent to a fancy school somewhere. For now, though, the tutor was the best Mr. and Mrs. Uhura could do for their bright, but wild, daughter. Although rough and tumble on the outside, Khalil knew that Nyofu was actually quite shy when it came to opening up and letting strangers get close to her. It had come as a surprise to everyone that she'd taken to her tutor so easily. He was older than Khalil, perhaps twenty-five or more. Khalil had met the soft-spoken man once, in passing, when Khalil had brought vegetables from his family's farm to share with the Uhura family. There was something about the man he didn't like, although he couldn't explain it in words. Mrs. Uhura hated it when Khalil did things that reminded her that he wasn't fully Human. He was certain that discussing a person's scent would classify him as being more dog than Human in Mrs. Uhura's book, so, he kept his misgivings to himself. He never told the family that the man simply didn't smell right.

He was finishing up his chores outside one evening when the family's comm unit chimed. It was always left on its loudest setting so that anyone working outside could hear it. Khalil ignored it, knowing someone inside would answer it. His thoughts started shifting towards an idea he'd been toying around with for a short story, something with space travel and adventure. He was thinking he would have to ask Nyofu for more details about the races he was thinking about using in his story.

"Khalil, come inside," Koreth called to him from just inside the doorway.

Khalil was curious, as his _vavnI'_ didn't normally use the tone of voice he was using right now. Something was wrong, very wrong. The young man entered the house, looked at the concerned faces of his relatives.

"What's wrong?"

"That was Kwasi Uhura. He was wondering if you'd seen Nyofu today. Makini made it home after school, but Nyofu hasn't arrived yet."

"Doesn't she meet with her tutor after school?"

"Yes, but that session ended hours ago. No one seems to know where she is."

Now Khalil was concerned. Nyofu might stop at the library and read for hours, but she always let someone know where she was. "Did they ask her tutor what time she left the academic center?"

"They can't find him to ask. He's not answering his comm. It's past nine now, and dark out. Kwasi called to ask if you'd seen Nyofu, and to ask if you'd help him look for her. He knows the girl talks to you, tells you things."

Since Hakimu had left for the Academy, Nyofu had begun to hang around Khalil more than she ever had before. She missed her older brother terribly, and seemed to have designated Khalil as a handy surrogate. He hadn't minded, as he enjoyed their conversations. Nyofu's passion was studying alien cultures. As young as she was, she'd amassed an incredible amount of knowledge about nearly all the races in the Federation, and quite a few non-Federation races as well. When they talked, she shared whatever she'd discovered since their last conversation. Khalil was fascinated, had even begun to bring a PADD to their chats so he could jot down interesting facts. As she talked, his mind wandered away from their small town, away from the boundaries of Earth. She made him think when he heard her voice, made him think less and less about being different, and more and more about leaving Earth and joining the universal community out there. He'd already written two stories based on things he'd learned from her. Nyofu was quickly becoming his muse, his inspiration. The thought that she was missing struck him hard, like a kick in his gut. Khalil never gave a verbal answer to whether he'd help Kwasi Uhura look for his mouthy daughter. He raced out of the door, going towards the Uhura side of the hill. He'd promised Hakimu he'd look after the girls. Something was very wrong.

The older man, looking back at the past, fast-forwarded through the search for the wild child who was now his wife. She wasn't in any of the places he knew she liked to go. She wasn't in any of the places Makini suggested. It was as if she'd disappeared off the face of the Earth. Where was she?

It was after eleven when Nyofu showed up at home. One look at her demeanor caused Khalil's eight chambered heart to drop. Nyofu's face, usually grinning, either in triumph, or in 'I'm going to laugh at you now and skewer your ass later,' was harsh. She radiated shock and raw, blistering anger; it was so intense it actually frightened him, and there were very few things that frightened Khalil. Her clothes were dirty, ripped in places. There were bruises on her face. She had put up one hell of a fight. There was dirt, blood, and tissue caked under her nails. Khalil could smell it from where he was standing. He could also smell the scent of a man on Nyofu, the same wrong scent he'd smelled before. He and Kwasi looked at each other, coming to the same conclusion at the same time. Nyofu was late coming home because she'd been raped, most likely by her tutor.

While everyone else stared at the girl, Khalil fumbled in his pocket for his personal comm unit. Finding it, he called his mother. Uzuri was a doctor, after all. Nyofu needed treatment. While he spoke to his mother, he noticed distantly that Ukarimu Uhura had left the room. Not once had she touched her daughter.

"Nyofu, come here," her mother called from the bathroom. "Come here. Let's get you cleaned up." Warm, comforting, concealing steam wafted out of the doorway. Ukarimu was running a bath for her daughter. She appeared in the doorway.

Khalil wondered now, as he did then, how the woman could have been thinking of trying to wash away the evidence of what had happened to Nyofu. Washing away the man's stink would not bring back her daughter's innocence. He remembered finding his voice.

"She can't take a bath now. My mother is on her way here. My mother will examine Nyofu, if she won't let any other doctor touch her. The police need evidence if they're going to catch this guy." It sounded like a responsible thing to say, something that could have easily come from Hakimu's mouth. Hakimu was the fair minded one, the one who was never quick to judge. Khalil sorely wished his friend was home and not in San Francisco. He would have been able to set things right without a confrontation.

Mrs. Uhura, however, did not seem to be interested in hearing responsible things. She'd barely acknowledged Khalil when he'd arrived to help her husband. He'd also heard her call him 'useless' under her breath when he'd returned to the Uhuras' house saying he'd been unable to find Nyofu as well.

"Who told you to call anyone? I didn't ask you to come here. Nyofu is home now. You can leave. In fact, you _should_ leave. This is a family matter. You shouldn't be dipping into something that isn't your business. Nyofu, come. The bath will feel good. Come."

Khalil turned towards Kwasi, hoping he would see right from wrong. "Mr. Uhura, you can't let her do this. Nyofu needs to be seen by a doctor, at least. Whoever hurt her might have been diseased or something. Let one treat her, let the police get what they need. You can decide later about the legal matters."

Kwasi looked first at his wife, who was glaring the sharpest daggers in his direction. Then he looked at his daughter, who was sitting with obvious difficulty, shaking silently. Finally he looked at Khalil. Kwasi, while friendly, was known to be securely under the thumb of his wife. It was rare for him to consider going against her wishes. The only time he led was when he was fairly sure of the outcome.

"Dr. Kiteme is on her way here, you say? She will keep quiet about this?"

"She's on her way. The police officers who take Nyofu's statement, they will know, but it won't be public knowledge. Nyofu's a minor, too. They'll do everything they can to keep her identity secret. Please, let Nyofu go with my mother. She should, at least, have a chance to get her revenge in court."

"Court? No. No. No court. My daughter's shame will not be public. Come here, Nyofu. Listen to your mother."

Khalil wondered exactly who Mrs. Uhura was trying to protect: her daughter, or her definition of herself. And when had Nyofu ever listened to her mother? Nyofu's independence was one of the growing problems in their family. The door chimed. Kwasi, closest to it, answered it. Dr. Kiteme was no longer on her way, but was now here. She started to come inside, but her son motioned for her to stop and stay outside. Uzuri, able to take directions from her offspring if he was more knowledgeable about a situation, stopped in her tracks. She nodded. Slowly, carefully, Khalil walked towards the door, stopping three feet away from where Nyofu was now huddled. She wouldn't look at him, but he was certain she was aware of him. He spoke very evenly, quietly.

"Nyofu, my mother is here. She will take you to the hospital. She'll stay with you the whole time, if you like. All you have to do is walk outside. At the hospital, the police will want to talk to you. You can tell them what you remember. You fought well today. Anyone who looks at you can see you fought him. Fight him again. Fight back. Let them examine you at the hospital, so they can catch this man."

"When they catch him, can I kill him?" It was the first thing Nyofu had said since she'd arrived home.

"I don't think they'll allow you to kill him, Nyofu. But you can help them put him in jail. Help them put him in jail so he can't hurt anyone else."

"He's already hurt girls in other towns. He told me. They say I'm crazy, but I'm not. He's crazy. He pretends to be a nice man. He pretends. Do all men pretend? My father pretends to be smart, but he's really just a country boy with little education. My brothers got tired of pretending they belonged here, and left as soon as they got a chance. Do they all pretend to be something they're not, and then lash out at you when you show them that the emperor's buck naked?"

"I don't know how to answer that, Nyofu. I can't speak for every man on the planet. I can only speak for myself. I'm exactly who you see. Please, come with me. I'll carry you if you don't feel like walking."

"No. Don't come any closer. Just stay where I can see you. I'll come."

"Nyofu, come here!"

Slowly, deliberately, Nyofu stood up. She looked over at her mother. The two stared at each other for a very long time. Finally, Nyofu spoke. "No." She turned her back on her mother and started walking towards the open door. It hurt Khalil's heart to watch her slow steps. It was clear to him that she was in pain, but he respected her wishes. If Nyofu said she would walk without his help, then that's what she would do. She looked directly at Khalil for a moment. He wasn't sure what she wanted from him, but he nodded, agreeing to give her whatever she needed.

"Makini, bring your sister here." Ukarimu tried one last time, the slight tremble in her voice revealing that she was on the edge of losing control.

Makini, keeper of secrets, got up and went to her sister. She placed her body in such a way so that Nyofu could lean on her for support. But instead of turning her towards their mother, she helped her sister walk into Uzuri's waiting arms, just outside the front door. Makini came back into the house and looked up at Khalil. Like her sister, Makini also had no fear of him, having known him since babyhood.

"You'll make sure she's okay, yes? You'll take care of her?"

It was clear to him that the eight year old was not making a request, but giving an order she expected he would obey. Unlike her sister, however, Makini gave orders quietly. He couldn't help but smile.

"I'll do what I can. My mother knows what to do."

Makini shook her head in the negative. "That's not good enough. Will _you_ take care of her? She's afraid. I know she won't say it, but she's afraid. She knows who hurt her. She's afraid he'll come back. Will you take care of her?" Makini wasn't just asking if Khalil would watch out for Nyofu tonight. She was letting go of keeping Nyofu's secrets and protecting her from herself. It was important that he understood what she was asking him to do.

And he did. Would he protect Nyofu from whatever and whoever was out there? Would he even protect her from herself?

"I'll take care of her, Makini."

Satisfied, Makini moved past him. She had done her part for the night. Khalil watched her move past her mother to take the bath Nyofu had refused. He raised his eyes from the other brave girl to meet Mrs. Uhura's, expecting to see some sort of pride, understanding, or sympathy.

The man looking back at the past remembered the look of pure hatred Mrs. Uhura had blasted him with. She'd blamed him for her daughters' defiance. Usually, Khalil hated getting that look from Mrs. Uhura, but that time, he'd welcomed it. For his part, he'd never been more proud of another person in his entire life. He'd always known Nyofu was a hell raiser, but that night, he'd discovered the strength at her core.

Khalil allowed his eyes to darken as he looked back at the older woman, allowed them to show that he harbored his own dislike for the way she was handling the situation. He made two decisions. If simply standing where Nyofu could see him provided her with the courage to make a stand against her mother and the life of confinement and shame Mrs. Uhura projected at her, then it was worth all of the older woman's hate. If his presence fed Nyofu's zest for life, gave her what she needed to stare down the wind and challenge the lightening, then he'd let her feed until she picked his bones clean. He would not let this woman rob Nyofu of her spirit. And if he was ever able to find the soft-spoken fiend that had hurt Nyofu, he would kill him for her. With a path decided, he walked out of the Uhuras' house to join his mother in taking Nyofu to the hospital where she worked. Kwasi Uhura silently followed behind, sending worried glances back at his wife.

Nyofu's body healed, but it took her mind longer. Grudgingly, Mrs. Uhura asked Khalil if he would mind escorting her children home from school. Feeling protective, he agreed, even refused the fee she offered. He was sure Hakimu would have done the same for him if he'd had sisters.

It took Nyofu a few weeks to trust Khalil the way she had before, but he was one of the few males she allowed near her for many months. The situation was quite ironic. Of all the males she might encounter, Nyofu put the majority of her fragile trust in the one male who looked large and fearsome. But when had she ever feared him? Khalil hated seeing Nyofu look so defeated. It wasn't right. He wished there was something he could do for her to help her find her bold spirit again. There were days when she laughed like she used to, but there were many more days when she was silent, or cried in his arms during their quiet talks. It was while he was holding her shaking frame one afternoon that the idea came to him: he would teach her how to defend herself. If it was up to him, Nyofu would never feel helpless again.

It was a decision that would have lasting repercussions.

.

.

All Klingon words come from The Klingon Dictionary by Marc Okrand

vavnI' = grandfather

'oy'naQ = pain-sticks

Qo'nos = Klingon home world


	6. Reviewing the Situation

Chapter Six: Reviewing the Situation

Was Nyota's behavior something new?

Nyofu continued to sit in the darkness of her old room. Now, she pondered the change in her daughter's behavior. Although Nyota had tried to cower behind the curtain when she'd first been discovered, eventually, she'd held her head up high and dared her mother to say anything. Oh, she hadn't said it in so many words, but Nyota's intent was clear just the same. How could it not be clear? How often had she given Ukarimu that same look? She knew what Nyota meant.

Nyofu felt a small smile stretch her full brown lips. Finally, Nyota was finding her voice. Finally, she was stepping out of the shadows. Nyota had inherited more from her than her looks after all. Somewhere inside, behind the wide eyes and the "keep away" attitude she often displayed, there was the same toughness. It just had to brought out more, had to cover her daughter in a blanket of confidence, had to bond to Nyota's skin and become part of her so that she would never hide herself again. That would give her the edge she'd need out in space.

Then again, Nyofu mused, what happened between them in the bathroom could have also been something entirely different from that.

Was something old, then? Maybe it was the same thing that had sprung up between them that time Nyota fell down the hill. If that was the case, then this time, it seemed to be swelling, like an overripe zit. If that's what it was, it would burst soon, and would probably be just as vile when it did. It was just as well, then, that this thing seemed to be coming to a head. Mother and daughter could deal with it now, and then they could move on to where mothers and daughters moved on to when a daughter reached her twenties and no longer needed the care of her mother. Especially if that daughter would soon be leaving Earth for the next five years. Five years. So much could happen in five years, especially if things were left unsaid, unclear, unexpressed. It had happened before in their family, Nyofu thought darkly. Five years was enough time for the heart to bleed and scab over, trapping hurt feelings inside. Enough time for wounds made of mistrust and misunderstanding to fester. Enough time for the two of them to become what she and Ukarimu already were to each other. That was something Nyofu did not wish to see come to pass.

U-ka-ri-mu. The syllables of her mother's name left gouges in the smooth spots where the question of Nyota's behavior had been rolling around. That damn woman. Nyofu's thoughts started to move away from the irritated spots, but then stopped. Ukarimu. She was part of the mystery somehow. Nyofu pondered Nyota's behavior both tonight and in the past. Nyota had not hidden from her. Nyota usually hid even the most innocent things from Nyofu: a torn dress hem, a lost data rod, a failing test grade, admissions materials to Starfleet Academy. Whenever she asked her daughter why, the reason was always the same:

"I thought you'd be angry with me."

Nyofu never understood her daughter's reasoning. A torn dress hem could be repaired, a lost data rod could be replaced, there were always other tests to ace, and Starfleet was practically the family business, with Hodari and Hakimu on active duty, and Makini working as a civilian consultant. Nyofu herself would have applied if she'd had a mind for following rules. Why did Nyota feel such a need for secrecy? Nyofu, in comparison, seldom hid anything. She spoke her mind, did as she pleased, even though it often caused trouble for her. It was better to be true to one's self, than to live inside a shell trying to please everyone else. As Nyofu turned the pebble of the problem around for another spin, the answer to, at least, this part of the problem occurred to her. Nyota expected her mother to react to things in the same ways Ukarimu would have reacted. With Ukarimu, a torn dress hem was a sign of wild, uncontrollable passions, a lost data rod meant carelessness, a failed test meant stupidity, and an interest in space was a betrayal of the species. Nyofu allowed a heavy sigh to escape her lips. As smart as Nyota was, her daughter still did not understand her. Nothing good would come out of it if things were left as they were. It was a situation that needed to be remedied as soon as possible.

Still, the question remained: was Nyota's behavior a sign of something old or of something new?

After rolling her daughter's behavior around in her head for a few moments more, Nyofu decided that Nyota's behavior was, indeed, something new. Yes, definitely something new. But it also had elements of something old as time mixed in. She herself knew what it was like to blaze out on a new trail, full of bravery, fire, and not enough common sense. That was the path to "I meant to do that," and that path left little room for "I'm sorry," or "forgive me."

Grudgingly, she admitted that her daughter _did_ have a right to sexual exploration. What she'd seen on Nyota's skin was clear evidence of sexual intercourse, or something damn close to it. Truthfully, she'd expected it years earlier. She'd been a little worried when no boys ever turned up at the Uhura or Kiteme houses looking for Nyota. Curious, she'd wondered if her daughter preferred females. Nyofu had begun to expect to see a shy young woman approach in search of her daughter. That's the kind of girl she'd figured would be attracted to Nyota: one who was quiet and felt safe in Nyota's equally quiet presence. But neither sex ever visited. She remembered that her daughter had said 'he.' A young man, then, had won her heart. Nyofu imagined a shy, serious cadet wrapping his arms around her daughter in an act of complete trust and devotion. The image wavered, as another thought intruded. Or a scoundrel had charmed the pants off of her. Nyofu now imagined a handsome, slick townie or fellow cadet: tall, slim waist, laughing eyes, a killer smile, and a gift with words. There would be no devotion and plans for the future there, if that was the case. Hopefully, this was not the beginning of a repeat in history. She needed to know more about this path her daughter was taking. Did Nyota know what she was doing, or was she simply being swept along? Was she lying to herself about the depth of the young man's feeling because she didn't want to acknowledge she was being played a fool?

Seeing the vision of her hickey-spattered only child bothered her, but not as much as Nyota probably thought it did. Not really. Nyofu was one who judged her offspring by her own example. Thus, if Nyota had gotten involved with a boy at age fourteen, it would have made sense to her, since she herself had done the same. Or at least, she had tried to. Heavens, how she'd tried to! Nyofu smiled widely as thoughts of then entered the here and now. Her mistake back then had not been in trying to let the object of her desire know that being near him caused reactions in places she'd only recently discovered she had. The problem had been the male she'd set her sights on. At fourteen, Nyofu had taken an interest in her mentor, Khalil, who was already twenty-one. She shook her head at the memory of her brazen behavior at the time. Maybe Nyota's secret lover was a cadet like herself, but he just as easily could have been an older man in Starfleet's employ. Here was one of the things that she needed to share with her daughter: be careful when taking an interest in a male that could get into trouble for kissing you good-night. The scandal of being caught was not worth the pleasure of being lusted after. Nyofu's not-so-innocent exploration had set the stage for the separation that had lasted until the day Khalil came to her house to let her know he'd found her lost daughter, a daughter that probably would have been his if he'd stayed around for another four years and waited for her to turn eighteen. The irony of the moment they'd met again was never lost on Nyofu.

Nyofu thought a bit more on the subject; in for a penny, in for a pound. Nyota had crossed the river from girlhood to womanhood far less messily than she had. For Nyofu, the crossing had begun forcefully on an afternoon that had started out normal enough. Her memories of the event were like the shards of a mirror that one tried to sweep together for disposal. In every shard, she saw herself broken, defeated. Nyofu took a deep breath and willed herself to see the shards as whole, to see the woman she was today, and not the girl she'd stopped being the moment she'd realized what was about to happen. It was clear Nyota was not feeling abused by the hands that had touched her. That was good.

Memories, once awakened, seldom returned to their sleeping states peacefully. Nyofu's memories of the early stages of her relationship with the man who was now her husband were no different. They stirred, bumped around, bled out of the boxes where she kept them, and stretched, glad to be free to torment her anew. It had started out so innocently…

They were enjoying some quiet time after working out with the weapons, just sitting together talking about nothing in particular. Khalil was twenty, and Nyofu was thirteen.

Khalil stopped talking in mid-sentence, his eyes riveted on something. Nyofu followed Khalil's line of sight. There was a large earthworm crawling along in the dirt to her left. He seemed mesmerized by the presence of the creature. Nyofu could feel it in Khalil's silence: this little bugger was a succulent looking specimen, and he really didn't want to let it get away. An earthworm was a perfectly good source of protein in Khalil's mind. They'd had that conversation before. However, the average Human had a screaming fit whenever Khalil made snacks out of things most people didn't think of as tasty. Nyofu had witnessed this when it had happened when they were younger; she knew how sensitive he could be to other people's reactions. This particular annelid seemed to be calling to him. Knowing Khalil as well as she did, she could almost hear the worm song. Khalil was hesitant, though. He really didn't want to gross her out. Nyofu smiled at him, shook her head, and decided to rescue Khalil from himself.

"You want it, don't you?"

"No…Yes…If it won't gross you out."

"I'll even catch it for you." Nyofu reached out, picked up the worm, and presented it to her mentor.

"Thanks." Now that Khalil had his prize, he looked at it as if he wasn't sure what to do with it.

"Go on. Don't be shy on my account."

"You don't mind?"

"Why should I mind? It's a source of protein, and people in other parts of the world eat things just like that. I've heard that meal worms are edible, too."

Taking Nyofu at her word, Khalil enjoyed his snack, watching her out of the corner of his eye to see if she made any faces at his food choice. She simply observed, thinking.

"Maybe I could eat it if it was cooked, but I don't think I could just chomp on it while it was still moving like you just did."

"You sound like my mother. She's spent a great deal of time searching databases on ancient and traditional foods, looking for ways to cook and eat some of the things my grandfather, my father, and I eat as is. On my grandfather's home world, they eat different kinds of worm-like creatures. They're considered delicacies, and fresh ones are the best, as in still moving." He finished his lecture and reached past Nyofu, having spied another wriggling snack. "This really isn't bothering you?"

"No. It's just something you do. I'm going to be studying all kinds of people someday. I can't get grossed out every time I discover people doing something different from what I might do. There's a spot behind my house where there's lots of those. I'll bring you some when I come over on Thursday."

"Thanks, Nyofu. It's nice to be friends with someone who accepts you completely."

Nyofu basked in the shining warmth of Khalil's gratitude, thinking only of how wonderful it would be to be able to sit with him like this always.

"Time for me to get you home, Nyofu." Khalil's voice interrupted her day-dreams of a never-ending buddy session.

"It's early still," Nyofu protested. She wasn't ready to go back home, yet. Wasn't ready to crawl back into the shell she hid in to get away from her mother's constant looks of disappointment.

"Early for you, but I have a date tonight. I have other things to do around here before I can go out." Khalil's eyes held a far-away look, as if his mind had travelled somewhere else, leaving his body sitting near Nyofu.

"Oh." Nyofu was crestfallen. She'd always known that Khalil dated; she'd overheard him and her brother talking about their dates many times. But somehow it all seemed different in this particular moment. She recalled one particular conversation the two males had. Nyofu was older now than she had been when she'd heard them talking. Words and meaning started falling into place. Now the teenager blushed, became shy. She looked over at Khalil, whose eyes were still seeing something far away from the girl sitting in front of him.

This time, Nyofu really looked at him. Khalil's face was as familiar to her as her brother's, but somehow it was as if she'd never seen him before. Khalil's eyes were set deep under a heavy brow. This gave the appearance that his eyes were small, but they were actually of an average size. Nyofu knew they were a rich a brown in color, a color that deepened depending on his emotions. The Klingon blood in his veins had given him some of the bone structure he would have needed to support a crest above his eyes. Except…he didn't have a crest rising proudly above his eyes. He didn't even have a hint of one. He had the brow to support one, but he didn't have one. Sometimes it bothered him, sometimes it didn't. To the average observer, he simply looked like one of the many Human men with a similar facial structure. Upon first meeting him, people sometimes joked that he must have had Neanderthals as ancestors. They never made that joke twice, at least not in his presence. In addition to the bone structure, Khalil had also inherited much of his grandfather's temper. From his grandmother, he'd inherited dignified restraint that helped him keep said temper in check. Most of the time. Nyofu's eyes moved lower over the rest of Khalil's form. Khalil could pass for a full Human as long as he kept his clothes on. She'd seen him without a shirt on enough times as they'd grown up to know there were differences between him and her brother. Khalil was taller than her brother as well. He was roughly six feet, four inches in height, and weighed roughly two hundred twenty pounds. There was not an ounce of unnecessary body fat on him anywhere. Sweatpants covered his long legs, but they didn't hide the fact that his legs were muscular. His skin was nearly fresh coffee black, like his mother's. For the first time in her life, Nyofu analyzed the form of the young man in front of her. She was stunned to admit it, but he was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Nyofu brought her gaze back up to his face. He had a pair of full lips that she was used to feeling on her forehead whenever she cried in his arms about something. She'd never thought about them before; they were just part of what made being around him such a comforting experience. But right now, she couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to feel them on her own lips. Would they be just as comforting? Did he use them to kiss the girls he dated?

"Have you ever kissed a girl before?" Nyofu asked bluntly.

"Huh?" Startled by the question, he brought his attention back to the girl in front of him.

"You said you had a date tonight. And I was wondering if you'd ever kissed a girl before."

Khalil smiled wryly, showing the sharp tips of his teeth. "Of course I have," he began. At Nyofu's continued questioning look, he added. "I'm not a virgin, Nyofu. Of course I've kissed girls before." His tone implied that she was asking a silly question.

Nyofu gave Khalil a look that expressed both her anger and her hurt at his tone. "I'm not a virgin either, Khalil. But that doesn't mean that I've ever willingly kissed a boy before. I was just wondering if it felt nice or not. I just thought you could tell me. No need to make me feel like an ass for asking." She turned away from the beautiful vision sitting in front of her.

A large hand touched down on her shoulder very gently. "I'm sorry, Nyofu. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Sometimes I forget what you've been through. You've had some of the experiences, but not at all the way they're supposed to happen."

"Well, I never forget."

"I guess you can't."

The hand moved away. Nyofu felt abandoned by its absence. She turned back towards Khalil.

"Does it feel good? Kissing someone?"

"It does," he answered, seriously. "Haven't any of the boys at school tried to ask you out?"

"No. I guess I'm not girly enough for them."

"They'll change their minds pretty soon, I think." Khalil was looking at her now, studying her the way she'd studied him.

"You think so?"

"I know so," Khalil brought his eyes back to her face, away from her body. "Time for me to get you home." There was something wary in Khalil's voice, now, as if he'd noticed something he hadn't noticed before, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

On the way home, Khalil didn't walk as close to Nyofu as he usually did. Nyofu knew that something had changed between them, but she wasn't sure what it was.

So innocently…

Nyofu decided. She would talk to Nyota. Tonight, if possible, but definitely before she went back to the Academy, they would talk. She would ask about the young man who had captured her daughter's heart. The more that she thought about her serious minded daughter, she more she felt sure that was what had happened – that he'd captured her heart, not charmed the pants off of her. Nyofu would find out about him, try to understand whatever Nyota felt for him. She would try not to judge. With a definitive shake of her head, she decided she would also warn her daughter about relationships. Warn her about how relationships took lots of hard work. Warn her about how important it was to be open and honest. Warn her to be patient, to not try to rush things with a man. Let it happen naturally, easily. Nyofu would not be like Ukarimu. She would warn her daughter.

With a path decided for dealing with her daughter, Nyofu turned her thoughts back to the issue of her husband. There was a promise she'd made to him the night she'd slept with him for the first time. Hadn't Khalil waited long enough?

Sitting in the darkened room of her youth, Nyofu started making plans for the future.


End file.
